Sneaks, Rattlers, and High Rollers
by domina tempore
Summary: For Shawn, undercover in Vegas is a dream come true. But what happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas; sometimes, you have to drag it out into the desert and fight it to the death. "Death" hopefully not applying to you.
1. Prologue This Bites

**Snakes, Rattlers, and High Rollers**

_by: jewel of athos_

_Note: So I finally decided not to be lazy and type my FFN penname on a Psych story instead of my Psychfic name :p lol. This fic goes out to the wonderful _**Spencer05**_ over on Psychfic for her birthday; my PF roomie and one of my very best friends there. She asked for "Shawn kidnapped, ditched in a desert, with a snake bite, and delirious". And...over the course of the fic, I'm trying my best O:) lol. Enjoy!! :D _

_~*~*~*~*~*~_

**Prologue** – _Thursday, 3:30pm_

_"Now, Shawn, I want you to listen to me." Shawn groaned. _

_"Come on, Dad. Do we _have_ to do this now?" Henry nodded. _

_"Yes, Shawn, we do. What if the snake that bit you had been poisonous, what would you have done?"_

_"I don't know..."_

_"Exactly, you don't know. But you will. Come here..."_

Shawn slowly lifted his head from the hot desert sand, and stared into the tiny golden eyes of the snake weaving its thick body in front of his face. He couldn't remember what kind of snake it was, but he was pretty sure that it was poisonous. Licking his lips, he started to inch back away from it with agonizing slowness, so that he wouldn't startle it into striking.

_"First of all, if you know it's a poisonous snake, or even if you're not sure, you want to try to stay real calm and quiet. You don't want to make any sudden moves or noises and scare it, because scared snakes bite. And keep in mind that they're almost always more scared of you than you are of them."_

_"Not if you're Indiana Jones," Shawn muttered. _

_  
"Well you're not Indiana Jones, are you? Listen, another thing that you want to do is you want to keep your face as far away from those fangs as possible. You don't want him to bite any part of you, but if he does, you want him to bite you on your arm or your leg, where it's easiest to get the poison our or at least contain it by making a tourniquet. You can't tie up your face."_

He finally managed to get his body turned so that he was laying on his back, with his feet the closest thing to the snake instead of his head. Slowly, he started to crab-crawl away from the creature as fast as he could manage in his condition without scaring it by his movement or accidentally screaming. Inch by painful inch, he moved away.

_"You wanna try and move as fast as you can without startling it, and get as far away from it as possible..."_

_BOOM!_ It sounded like a gunshot, but it could have just been the heat playing with his senses. But what had made the noise hardly mattered to the snake. It struck.

"Ah!"

Pain. Burning pain, crawling up his calf. Tears of agony and dizziness blurred his eyes, and he couldn't see the snake anymore. He couldn't tell one thing from another in the mass of swirling colors in front of his eyes. But wherever it had gone, the snake didn't strike again.

_"Alright, now if you do get bit, you want to keep the poison from going to your heart, so you don't want to move a lot; that makes your blood flow faster. What you'd want to do is you'd want to take something---a piece of rope or cloth or whatever---and tie it tightly around your arm or leg directly above _and_ below the wound. That'll help contain the poison."_

Shawn dragged himself backwards until he bumped into a rock that he remembered passing the moment before he had collapsed. He managed to sit up and lean his back against it, gasping for breath. After resting for a moment, he started tearing long strips off of his shirt. When he'd made several, he rolled up the leg of his jeans that the snake had bit through and made a clumsy attempt to tie the strips in place, his vision still swimming.

_"What do you do after that?" Shawn asked, rubbing his bandaged hand nervously. "I mean, if you're all alone wherever you are?"_

_"Well, if you're near enough to a phone or any people, you'd either call 911 or ask someone else to do it for you. And if the bite is in a place you can reach with your mouth, you cut an X over it and suck and spit over it to try to draw the poisoned blood out."_

_"What if it's like, someplace I can't really reach?"_

_"Then you learn to be flexible pretty darn quick while you're waiting for the ambulance."_

_"But what if there's no one around to help, like, you're in the middle of nowhere or something?" Henry raised an eyebrow._

_"Son, you'd better hope you never get bit by something poisonous stuck out in the middle of nowhere."_

"Gah!" Shawn gasped in pain, and his trembling fingers lost the knot. Choking on a curse, he fumbled for the ends of the cloth to re-tie it. _Oh, gosh, it hurts! _

~*~*~*~*~*~

_Note: So there is the prologue :). Thoughts so far? Oh, I don't actually know a whole lot about snake bites; what I wrote, I learned from books. So...fair warning :p lol. Thank you for reading!! One more chapter will be up in a little while, and more will come soon!! :D _


	2. Chap 1 Dropping Eaves

_Note: So this chapter was incredibly tough to start; but once I did, I had crazy amounts of fun with it. It seemed to go over really well on PF; I hope you guys like it as much!! :D _

**Chapter One**

_Wendsday, 5:00am_

Being in the interrogation room at the Las Vegas Police Station was not the same as being at the SBPS, at his station. This wasn't his home turf, he was just a guest here. He didn't have any real power.

But the two men sitting across the table didn't know any of that. All that they knew was that he was a police detective who was carrying a gun, and that he wanted answers. And as far as Carlton was concerned, that was all that mattered.

He leaned against the table in front of him, not bothering to try to conceal his rage. He could feel the eyes of his friends on him from the other room, but he ignored them. They needed answers, and he was going to get them.

"What did you do with Spencer?" he demanded. The suspects exchanged a look, and the smaller of the two, a skinny guy with glasses, started to sweat. His large, tan partner crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes looking as calm as ever.

"Who?"

"You know who I'm talking about!" Carlton shouted. "Spencer! The psychic, the idiot that the two of you kidnapped from the casino Tuesday morning!"

"Tuesday?" He glanced at his trembling comrade. "We weren't even near the place on Tuesday morning."

"Oh, I'm sorry, perhaps your brains are too small to grasp the concept that even though it's _dark_ at two am, _it's still morning_!" 

"Whoa, guy! No need to get so excited."

"Oh, I'll show you excited---"

"Carlton!" Juliet's sharp voice stopped him, and he turned to see her standing in the doorway. He sighed, and when he turned back to the two men, he had pulled himself back under control.

"What did you do to him?" he growled. 

"You mean James Bond?" The suspect laughed. "You might as well give up lookin'; the guy's long gone."

"What are you talking about?" The guy leaned forward, his lips curling in an evil grin. 

"Figure it out, big boy." With a harsh, wordless cry, Lassiter lunged across the table towards him. Juliet bolted forward and pulled him away and out of the room.

"Let me beat it out of them," he begged as she steered him firmly through the door.

"Carlton, you can't assault prisoners," she told him. "You know that. But we'll find him."

"I don't understand how you don't want to bash those guys heads in for this!"

"Oh, believe me," Juliet's voice was dark. "I'd love to." Before she could say more, Gus came up to them with two coffees. 

"Well?" he asked. "Did they spill?" Carlton hardly felt the need to dignify that with an answer. He pushed past Gus and pounded his way out the door.

Gus and Juliet exchanged a look.

"We're screwed, aren't we?" he asked. The young detective sighed. 

"The chief should never have given Shawn this case."

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Monday, 12:30pm_

Shawn lounged in one of the chairs just outside of Chief Vick's office, toying with a Rubik's Cube and waiting impatiently for Gus to return from the bathroom. No human being should _ever_ have to take that long to pee. Especially when they had a meeting with the chief in…just under five minutes. Though from the tone of the voices currently raising inside, that schedule had the potential to change without warning.

…Come to think of it, those upset voices had to be a lot more interesting than Gus's Rubik's Cube.

Setting the toy aside, Shawn angled his head just so in an effort to hear what was going on. He could make out the chief's voice, and Lassiter's and Juliet's; but they must have had just enough sense to regulate their speech so that he could hear no more than worthless snippets. He was about to give up when one particular word caught his attention and held it.

_Vegas._

"Shawn, what are you doing?" Shawn glanced up to see Gus standing over him, frowning. "And what did you do to my Rubik's Cube? I was almost done with that!"

"Don't worry, I can put it back the way you had it. It was all wrong, though; and it serves you right for being in the bathroom for so long and sneaking up on me so that you could distract me when I'm trying to get information about our next case!"

"That took me three hours solve those four sides, Shawn! And you _know_ that my nervous stomach is unpredictable. And what are you doing snooping, anyways? We're getting a new case from the chief in like, five minutes!"

"Dude, trust me, she wants us on _this _case," Shawn insisted, gesturing to the office. Gus raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on! Why else would she have told us to wait outside her office, unless she wanted us to hear what was going on in there?"

"She didn't do that---"

"Of course she did! She said "Wait here, gentlemen. I'll be with you soon." And then she went into her office. She clearly wants us listening in."

"Shawn, she _hates_ it when we eavesdrop. You _know_ that!"

"Gus, don't be two torn-up math work sheets held together with a rusty paper-clip," Shawn chided, still straining to hear what was going on. "It's only eavesdropping if you pull the gables off the house _first_,and _then_ drop them. Otherwise, it's just listening."

"Yeah, listening illegally." Gus fidgeted nervously as Shawn leaned closer to the door. "You 're gonna be in so much trouble…" he whispered, his voice rising several octaves.

"Would you relax? We are not going to get busted for this---" The door to the office swung opened just then, and Shawn scrambled back as the chief poked her head out.

"Inside please, gentlemen," she ordered, her tone demanding immediate and un-questioned obedience. Shawn and Gus jumped immediately to carry out her command.

As soon as they were inside, and after Karen had shot a brief look around the room outside to see if anyone had taken undue notice of her peculiar behavior, she shut the door and turned to them. Shawn grinned.

"Why are we all being so secretive?" he asked. Lassiter and Juliet exchanged a look as he continued, "All I'm getting is dice...and poker...shaken, not stirred...Rainman?" He looked up hopefully.

"Mr. Spencer, were you eavesdropping?" Karen demanded.

"No! For one thing, I'd need eaves for that. But if you mean _listening_, then yes, I was doing that. Not on purpose, mind you. Psychically. The spirits carried your conversation to me." He swung his hands back and forth lightly to demonstrate, accenting the sing-song voice he had adapted.

"Spencer, cut the crap," Lassiter snarled. Shawn laughed.

"Whoa, down Lassie-boy! Easy."

"Chief," Gus cut in, tossing a glare Shawn's way, "can you please tell us why we're here?" Karen sighed, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe she was really saying this.

"You boys…are going to Vegas."

"Yes!" Shawn whooped in victory and punched the air, and Lassiter groaned in what could have been anything from mild irritation to full on shoot-one-of-us-now. Gus and Juliet exchanged a sympathetic look.

"What are we going to be doing in Vegas, exactly?" Shawn asked after completing his victory dance.

"Well, you'll all be undercover---"

"Oh, undercover? Yes! As in a casino owner? A down-on-his-luck drunk who ends up in a hot girls club? As wealthy millionaires coming to squander our fortunes?" He paused and gasped. "As James Bond?" The chief shook her head.

"As cheaters," she said. Gus frowned.

"Cheaters?"

"Cheaters," she confirmed. "Well, gamblers, but you will be cheating. "

"What good is that going to do us?"

"Other than making us _filthy_ rich, you mean?" Shawn was bouncing on the balls of his feet, barely able to contain himself. Karen rolled her eyes and gestured to Juliet and Lassiter to explain.

"Detectives?"

"There was a bank robbery here in Santa Barbara a couple of weeks ago," Juliet explained. "Two _formerly_ petty thieves, Riley Sincha and Felix Johns. They lifted a couple million in cash out of a downtown band and ran. We've had people after them ever since, and a couple of days ago, we found out that some of the bills that they made off with coming out of the Tiger-lily Casino, in the heart of Las Vegas."

"Pretty stupid of them if you ask me," Carlton put in. "Immediately running off and blowing the cash in a casino like that? Of course that would get the cops on their case right away."

"Excuse me," Shawn cut in, drawing the head detective's glare, "where was I when all of this bank-robbery business was taking place?"

"I believe that you were in Florida, trying to swim with dolphins who "may have been bribed by a murderer"," Chief Vick snapped. Shawn was oblivious to the disapproval in her tone.

"Oh, yes, that's right. Turns out he hadn't been anywhere near them, thank God. It was a good hunch, though; and I'd like to thank the department for financing the effort---"

"About the case…" Lassiter cut him off loudly.

"Oh, please forgive me, Lassie." Shawn gave a little bow. "Please, continue."

"As O'Hara was _saying_, we tracked them to the Tiger-lily Casino. The bills are coming out of there, alright, and they've been seen there every night this past week, gambling their little hearts out. But in spite of our best efforts, no one has been able to place them at the scene of the robbery. They've been checked out several times, but in the end we don't have one shred of physical evidence against them."

"It is your job to gamble your way up to where they are, and get close enough to them to catch them in the act," the Chief said, "and to psychically find out where they're keeping the money. Mr. Spencer, I expect you to be discreet about your gift; and only mention it to those that you _know_ you can trust." Lassiter nodded in agreement.

"Right. I'll team up with Spencer for this, because I can't trust him not to screw it up somehow…" Karen shook her head.

"No, Carlton, we talked about this."

"Oh, but Chief…"

"We talked about this," she repeated firmly, belaying his whining. "And I've said it before, detective; you're never more obvious than when you're undercover."

"But I thought that Lassiter was coming with us," Gus began nervously.

"Oh, he's going with you. Just in a role more suited for his particular skill-set and acting ability."

"Oh, what role are you playing, Jules?" Shawn asked, turning to the blonde. "Are you the girl who falls in love with my heroic and dashing James Bond? Are you going to wear one of those shiny short dresses?" Juliet blushed, and was rescued by the chief.

"You've all been given characters to play," she handed folders to Gus and Shawn, "and I'll expect you to stick to them." Shawn flipped through his file quickly, grinning like an idiot.

"This is going to be so much fun!"

"The Las Vegas law enforcement has agreed to work with you to apprehend these two men," the chief continued, "and they've planted several officers in the casino as well. Everything that we currently know is in these folders, but they will be briefing you again on the situation when you arrive at your hotel. Your flight leaves in an hour." She gave a brief smile. "You're all dismissed."

"Whoo-hoo! Yeah!" Shawn whopped again as they all filed out of the office. "We're going to Vegas!" Lassiter groaned.

"Worst. Partners. Ever."

"Hey, you called us your partners," Gus realized. 

"Ah, nice call!" Shawn held up a hand for a fist bump. Lassiter glared at them both.

"Shut up."

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Thursday, 4:12pm_

_Shawn's head swam with the heat, and he wondered if the poison was adding to his disorientation, if it was getting close to his heart yet. He had no idea how fast rattlesnake poison worked. _

"_Rattlers?" he mumbled, vaguely irritated. "Why do I remember that now?" He let his head fall back against the stone, and licked his painfully dry lips. He was so thirsty…would dehydration kill him before the poison did? _

"_No, stop it, Shawn!" He shook his head weakly. "You can't die. You know…what their plan is…they'll find you…" But he knew that he was lying to himself. It had been almost two full days since he had been dumped out here in the middle of nowhere. If his friends hadn't found him by now, it wasn't likely that they were going to. _

_He was going to die out here. _

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

_Note: So? Do you like it? Is there anything that you would maybe be interesting in seeing? (I have the next few chappies finished, but I still have plenty of fic left to work some stuff in ^_~). Let me know!! _


	3. Chap 2 My Name is Fuller Jake Full

_Note: Chapter two is up!! :D :D ...but you can already see that *headdesk* lol. You'll have to forgive me, I was away and just got back and am overtired/hopped up on Twizlers...*blush* ANYWAYS..._

_Here is chapter two for your viewing pleasure :). And just to forewarn, I only have three more chappies finished right now, and the story isn't; so if I don't update often, please forgive me? O:) _

**Chapter Two**

_Wendsday, 9:15am_

Gus paced nervously as he watched Juliet in the interrogation room, her third try in as many hours. She and Carlton and several of the Las Vegas officers had been taking turns interrogating Johns and Sincha, but with no luck. They had tried all different angles and approaches, but Sincha had hardly said a word and Johns refused to crack except to hint that it was already too late for Shawn, wherever he was. They were getting no where with their investigations, and they were running out of time.

He was distracted from the window by Lassiter shouting in the corner. He was on the phone, and had been speaking in furious whispers until that point. Now he was on the verge of screaming.

"Come on, Chief! Just give me _five minutes_ to knock them around, and I'll have an answer---Chief! There _is_ no other way, Karen! They're not going to talk any other way. You have to let me---No! We don't have that kind of time! _Spencer is going to die_! What? No! You can't bring him into this; he'll only make things worse! Already on the plane? Well turn it around!" The door to the interrogation room opened, and Juliet slipped out, closing it behind her. She winced at the harsh sound of Lassiter's voice.

"Anything?" Gus asked hopefully, even though they both knew that it was slim. She shook her head.

"They're not talking. Johns is one of the hardest perps that I've ever tried to crack; and Sincha doesn't say anything at all. I think that he's scared of his partner."

"I would be," Gus glanced through the window at the larger man. "He's huge!"

"And tough." Juliet sighed, and focused her attention on Lassiter. "Who is he talking to?" she asked.

"I think it's the chief. I don't know what she said to make him scream like that, though."

"It's Carlton."

"True." Any further conversation was forestalled by the head detective slamming his phone shut in disgust and coming over.

"What did you find out?" he asked.

"No more than you have so far. Carlton, they're not going to talk to us."

"I didn't ask you to state the obvious, O'Hara. I want answers!"

"Believe me, I'd like nothing better than to give them to you. But I can't make them talk!"

"Alright, let's just stop and think about this for a minute," Gus said, trying to diffuse the tension between the partners. He wracked his brain trying to remember how Shawn would figure something like this out. He had to stay calm, stay rational; for Shawn. _This is for you, buddy._ "Go back to the beginning in your head, that night at the casino. There has to be _some_ kind of clue that we missed."

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Monday, 9:02pm_

"So this is the Tiger-lily Casino!" Shawn clapped Gus on the shoulder as they entered the building. They had sat through several hours worth of briefing, and it was good to finally be _doing_ something, working the case. "Snazzy. You know, I worked in a casino kind of like this, once. Except it was in Connecticut, not Vegas."

"Shawn, we're supposed to be acting in character, remember? Stop acting so Shawn-ish! Besides, Mohegan Sun? Nothing like this."

"Well, I'm sorry, _Barry Longbottom_; I didn't realize that I had to play Jake Fuller to you, too."

"You're supposed to play Jake Fuller to everybody, Shawn. We're supposed to be undercover!"

"Then why are you still using my real name?" Gus narrowed his eyes, but didn't reply. Grinning, Shawn waved at a security guy as they passed him.

"Hey, Chuck!" he called. "You know, you don't look very much like a "Chuck" to me. You've got kind of dog-ish features, really. More like a "Buddy", or a "Rover". No, wait, I've got it; Lassie!" The disguised detective forced a fake smile, clenching his hands tightly in an effort to remain calm.

"Is there something that I can help you two gentlemen with?" he asked. Shawn thinned his lips thoughtfully, and shook his head.

"No, no, I think we're good." He patted Lassiter's shoulder. "Nice moustache." Instantly, the detective's demeanor changed.

"Why thank you, Spencer! You know, if you ever need any help with that messy scruff of a thing you have on your face, my moustache guy---"

"Don't care," Shawn cut him off, rubbing his chin. "This sweet baby is almost as great as my hair." Lassiter frowned.

"Go find O'Hara and keep an eye on her," he growled. Grinning, Shawn and Gus fist-bumped quickly before continuing into the casino in search of Juliet.

Gus spotted her first.

"Wow!" he gasped, staring openly at her. Shawn shook his head and laughed.

"Gus, we don't have time to girl-watch, we have to---_wow_!" His mouth dropped opened as he caught sight of the young detective. Juliet's long emerald dress was sleeveless and low-cut, and absolutely stunning. Her hair was swept up into a bun much more elegant than she ever had it for work, and a few curls were left free around her face. And on her ears, on her wrists, and around her neck, glittered diamonds. Both men gaped at her.

"Dude, we have _got_ to get her undercover as a rich chick more often," Shawn breathed.

"You know that's right."

After a moment, their frozen, staring forms attracted her attention. She excused herself from the man that she'd been talking to and made her way over to them.

"I'm packing heat," she warned them, patting her concealed weapon.

"I bet you are…" Shawn began, but stopped himself when she raised an eyebrow. He coughed nervously. "Oh, right! Sorry."

"How are things going here?" Gus asked, having recovered enough to throw a disgusted look at his friend. Juliet grinned, and fell into her character as she spoke.

"Well, so far I've been able to see pretty much everything there is to see of the gambling parts of the casino; I've got the floor plan pretty much down, so I know all the places where they can possibly come in or leave. Oh, and there were these two _really_ cute guys who bought me drinks; and one of them asked me to play poker with him; but I don't really do poker, you know? So we did craps instead and he won some money; because apparently, girls in green are really good luck---"

"Jules!" Shawn caught her hands and locked eyes with her. "_Focus_." She blushed.

"Sorry. You know how I get."

"Have you seen Sincha or Johns yet?" Gus asked, determined to be the voice of reason for their case, as usual. She shook her head.

"No, I haven't. But I talked to the bartender and a couple of the dealers and stuff, and they said that the two have been regulars for the whole week, and that they come in around eleven every night."

"But it's only nine o'clock!" Gus exclaimed, glancing at his watch. "What are we supposed to do until then?"

"We win big," Shawn decided, smiling and offering his arm to Juliet. "Shall we?" She smirked.

"Depends on who's asking." Shawn raised an eyebrow and grinned in what he believed was his most seductive expression. Gus rolled his eyes.

"Bond. _James_ Bond." Slowly, Juliet smiled and nodded.

"Alright, I'll play."

"May I have the honor of knowing the name of the lovely lady I am to escort?"

"Alice DeRose," Juliet gave her undercover name. Gus sighed.

"If you two are going to do this, I'm going to get a drink. Let me know if anything pertinent to the case happens." Shaking his head, he walked away.

*~.~**:":**~.~*

Two and a half hours and three blatant undercover Vegas officer spottings later, Shawn finally caught a glimpse of their suspects. He nudged Juliet and nodded subtly at the two men who had just walked in.

"I see our guys," he muttered. She nodded.

"Good call."

"They're late," Shawn commented, remembering what she'd told him earlier. It was nearly midnight. He let his mind trail back even farther, to the briefing at their hotel, and frowned. "What's up with that Sincha one?" he asked, gesturing to the smaller of the two men. "I thought he was supposed to be a bank robber. He looks like a geek."

"A very dangerous, expensively dressed geek," Juliet pointed out. "Alright, I'm going to go and talk to them, try to feel out their game a little."

"I'll go get Gus. Hey, see if you can get those two into a poker game or something; I want to get a vibe on them while they're betting." Juliet nodded.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do." She started to head off, but Shawn caught her arm briefly. He held up his free hand and clenched it.

"Good luck fist-bump?" he offered. Juliet laughed.

"Pass." Shawn watched her walk away, and once he saw Lassiter's eyes glued to his partner in case she needed help, he got up to look for Gus.

It didn't take long to locate his friend at the bar. He'd thought that he had been avoiding them because he was upset with their James Bond game, but he found him at the bar deep in conversation with a reddish-haired girl, and grinned. He understood why his friend had stayed; that girl was _hot_.

Shawn slid onto the stool on the other side of Gus, feeling a tiny bit of remorse for having to interrupt but squashing it down.

"Hey, Jackal, the puma has arrived," he whispered. Gus turned to glare at him.

""Jake", can't you see that I'm in the middle of a conversation right now?"

"Sorry, "Barry". And I hate to interrupt you, I really do; but I need you." Gus frowned.

"Need me for what?"

"Because, Barry, I'm going to play a hand or two of poker."

"So? I'm not going to abandon Sarah just because you want to play cards Sha-_Jake_."

"Come on, buddy," Shawn begged. "I need you to be there for me, for moral support! You know how nervous I get when I'm betting and you're not there. And I'm going to have to play _Johns _and _Sincha_!" He wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully. Gus sighed.

To his surprise, the red-haired girl smiled. "Barry, it's alright, I understand. I have to head out, anyways. But here," she pulled a pen out of her purse and scribbled something on a napkin. "My number. It's been really great talking to you." She leaned over and kissed Gus on the cheek; then, with a brief wave to Shawn, she got up and walked away. Gus stared after her in shock.

"You dirty dog, you!" Shawn poked his friend. "Digits already? Sweet!" Gus stroked a thumb across his nose, smirking.

"You know that's right." Gus continued to stare after her. Rolling his eyes, his friend smacked his shoulder.

"Dude, you're leering, stop! We've gotta go find our guys and Jules."

"Oh, right." Gus composed himself, and followed his friend towards the poker tables.

They found Juliet with their suspects, playing innocent and naïve as the dealer collected the cards and the victor of the round scooped up his winning chips. Shawn frowned as he noticed the bigger guy, Johns, flirting with Juliet, and approached the table, positioning himself between his friend and their baddies.

"Hey, do you mind if I jump into this game?" he asked loudly. Johns laughed.

"Yeah, whatever, guy. As long as you can bet in." Grinning, Shawn made a place for himself where he'd cut in.

"What are you doing?" Juliet hissed, jerking him closer by his tie. "I think I was getting somewhere!"

"They were lying out the wazoo," Shawn replied. "Besides, I need to be near them to read them. Barry!" he shouted loudly to Gus, waving. "Get over here, join our game!"

"Jake, are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Barry, don't be a piece of day-old bread. I'll go easy on you."

"Well, alright. But you're paying for drinks later." Shawn grinned.

"That's my man!" The table shuffled to make room for him, and a couple of the other players grumbled, eyeing their winnings. They clearly didn't want any fresh blood in the game…

"_Fresh blood…" Shawn took another look at the sticky, quickly bruising wound on his leg. Dark, stinking blood was oozing sluggishly out of the cuts that he'd made when he tried to suck the poison out. He let his head drop back, the effort of leaning forward to look exhausting him. "S'not fresh…" he mumbled. "Bad." _

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Note: I'm not gonna lie, I _loved_ writing this chapter. So much fun...^_^ Hope you liked it!! :D _


	4. Chap 3 Hindsight is Always Really Good

_Note: And we're back with chatper three! I've had it done, but it took me longer than I thought to be able to get it up; sorry about that. It's not too terribly late, though...right? O:) Anyways, hope that you enjoy!_

**Chapter Three** - _Hindsight is Always Really Good_

_Thursday, 4:43pm_

_Shawn faded gradually into consciousness. He'd been doing that a lot over the past hour…at least, he thought it was probably an hour. It was getting harder to tell._

"_Stupid," he muttered, wanting to aim the word at the snake but applying it to himself just as easily. "Stupid, stupid, stupid…" He had fallen right into their game, too. It had been a simple trap, at best; and he had walked straight into it like the idiot that he was. _

_"Stupid."_

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Tuesday, 2:15am_

In hindsight, Shawn knew that it probably hadn't been a good idea to sneak out of the casino and tail Johns and Sincha when they'd left, without permission. Or backup. Or a weapon other than a Swiss army knife. But Chief Vick and the Las Vegas police had made it very clear that their first few days were to be purely spent feeling the suspects out at the casino, and making them comfortable with their presence. Anyways, the Las Vegas police had tailed them before, and seen nothing out of the ordinary.

Shawn had never been good at following orders, though; especially when patience was required. There was something about the whole charade that didn't add up. After all, why would two not so bright petty crooks from Santa Barbara flash their ill-gotten wealth at a casino, where their game could be up in a second, but never visit their cache and replenish their spending money? They clearly didn't keep it at their hotel; the building had been searched at least twice. But since that was so, the Vegas police who had tailed them should have seen _something_ out of the ordinary. They were horrible betters, they had to have raided their stash of cash at least once a day. So why hadn't the police caught them at it?

It was an altogether horrendous set-up, and one that Shawn couldn't resist checking out. He'd taken a selfish moment to push Lassiter's buttons, then quickly changed out of his uncomfortable tuxedo into street clothes---using an empty dining room that shared a lobby with the gambling section of the building---and gotten outside just in time to catch a glimpse of them and follow.

Beforehand, it had been a brilliant plan. He tailed Gus and Lassiter all the time; he was a master at the art. He'd pop after them, snap a few incriminating pictures; he could close the case in one night. He'd even called and left a message for Gus at the hotel, detailing his brilliance. Easy as pineapple.

In hindsight, however, staring down the muzzle of Johns' gun, he _really_ should have called for backup.

"Hey, guys!" he forced a fake, cheerful smile and tried to pretend like everything was cool, like there was _not_ a gun pointed at his head. "Fancy meeting you here…tonight…all alone in this dark alley. Sorry to have crashed your party, I guess I should have just taken that left turn at Albuquerque. So if you'll excuse me, I'll just leave you to it and try and find my way---"

"Shut up!" Johns snapped. "You talk too much. Sincha, tie him up." The smaller man pulled a rope out of his coat pocket and moved around behind Shawn. He sighed theatrically.

"Come on, are you guys really _that_ mad that I beat you in poker? I'm donating the money to a good cause, you know; it's not like I'm keeping it all for myself. Isn't that good enough for you guys? Or do you have a different charity other than "Save the Dolphins" that you'd rather I give something to? Come on, talk to me; I'mm flexible!"

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up? Look, cut the crap! I know that you're not some showy rich kid out for a good time or _charity_ in Vegas. You're a cop! Where are you from, huh? You ain't no Vegas boy."

"I take great offense to that!" Shawn sniffed indignantly. "I am not a cop, thank you very much; and how dare you think so? I am in fact a _psychic_. Psychic detective, actually. Get it right."

"Psychic?" Johns snorted. "Well that's a load of crap!"

"Is it?" Shawn asked. "Is it really? I doubt that the spirits are going to like that you said that…"

"Can you prove it?" Riley asked from behind him, pulling the knots tight on the ropes around his wrist and reaching into his pocket to remove his iPhone and toss it away. Johns gave and angry grunt and glared at his partner, and Shawn grinned.

"Of course! I'm getting vibeage like you wouldn't believe right now. For example, you two are petty thieves from California, the Santa Barbara area---you know, it's really much more effective a demonstration if I'm not tied up; then I could use my "hand-to-my-head" move. It sells the whole thing much better to you skeptics---and a couple of weeks ago, you robbed a bank!" He shook his head, laughing. "And then you just _came_ out here to Vegas and started spending it! As if the police wouldn't be able to track it…" He trailed off as he noticed the satisfied smirk of Johns' face. Partially understanding dawned on him with a start. "But that was all exactly what you wanted. You weren't after the money at all, not really. That was just so that you could lure your real target here! But the question is, who are you really after…?" He cut off abruptly as something hard struck him in the head. Whatever he had been about to say died as he crumpled, unconscious, to the ground.

Riley dropped the piece of piping that he'd used to club the psychic, and it rolled noisily away. He looked up and met Johns' eyes.

"What are we going to do about him?" he asked. "He knows way too much."

"We'll do like we planned if anything got in our way; we dump him, and stay on schedule. We've got bigger game than this." Johns kicked at Shawn's body, and put away his gun. "Get him in the truck."

*~.~**:":**~.~*

Gus got back to the table where he'd been comparing notes with Shawn and Juliet after the suspects left, to find the former missing. He glanced at Juliet.

"Hey, where did Jake go?" he asked carefully, remembering to keep up their undercover charade. "I thought that I left him with you."

"He told me that he was going to get us all drinks; tequila or something," his friend answered. "He just left a minute ago." Gus frowned, and his character was dropped instantly.

"I passed the bar on my way back from the bathroom, Juliet. He wasn't there."

"Are you sure?" she asked, standing up out of her seat and scanning the crowded room for him.

"Positive. He wasn't there."

"I don't see him," she said, a touch of worry creeping into her tone. Gus tried not to let his own concern show.

"He probably just met some pretty girl and took her off alone to flirt," he said uneasily. "This is Vegas, you know."

"Do you really think that he'd do that?" Juliet asked, her frown matching Gus's.

"Yes; but I think that he'd buy her a drink, not take her off alone. Not when we're on a case."

"Carlton would know if he's still here or not," the detective suggested, changing the subject quickly. "He's been working security at the door all night."

"We should probably go talk to him, just to be sure…" Gus said hesitantly. To his relief, Juliet agreed immediately.

"Everything is probably fine, though," she said as they navigated their way through the crowded room.

"Yeah, sure. We've just got to check because it's our job."

"Oh, totally." They kept up rationalizing the situation until they found Lassiter in the lobby, visibly irritated in the way that only Shawn could do it. Gus immediately inquired after his best friend.

"Did you see him leave?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, I saw him leave," the detective growled. "And if I had my way, he wouldn't be coming back, either."

"Why did he leave?" Juliet asked. "He was supposed to be getting us drinks."

"I don't know, and I don't care. I don't believe it, but he said that the strain of being so near to such clearly guilty suspects wore him out, and that he was heading back to the hotel to rest; and if we didn't hear from him by morning, to call him. As if we wouldn't have broken down his door by then, anyways." Gus and Juliet exchanged a concerned glance. Even Shawn rarely got Lassiter that worked up.

"What else did he say to you?" Gus asked.

"Nothing that I'm ever going to repeat." He shook his head angrily. "I need a drink."

"Are you sure that he's okay?" Juliet asked, stopping her partner from rushing straight to the bar. "Usually, when Shawn goes off on his own, he ends up getting himself into trouble."

"He's a mature---well, he's an adult, I _think_," Carlton said. "I think that he can manage to get back to his hotel on his own. Now if you'll excuse me, my shift is over; I'm getting myself a drink." He headed for the bar. Juliet sighed and glanced at Gus, who didn't look at all convinced.

"Do you think that he did something stupid?" she asked. Gus shrugged.

"Of course I do! It's Shawn. I just hope that it's nothing that's going to get him killed." He sighed. "I'm going to call him." He drew his cell phone out of his pocket and started to dial.

"Why don't you call the hotel, first, and see if he went in?" Juliet suggested. "If he really did tell Carlton the truth and he's just tired, we shouldn't disturb him."

"I guess you're right…" Gus dialed the number for the hotel, and after a moment, the line was picked up by a sweet-voiced lady.

"Barna Hotel and Suites, Las Vegas, how may I help you?"

"Hi, my name is Barry Longbottom. I have a question for my friend in suite 429, Jake Fuller. Can you connect me to his room?" There was a brief pause.

"I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Fuller has not returned to the hotel yet. But he did call and leave a message for you, would you like to hear it?"

"Yes, please." Juliet tapped his shoulder lightly.

"Well?"

"He's not there, but he left a message. I---" he stopped talking as a recorded message of Shawn started playing on the other end of the call. As he listened, his face fell, and the worry that he'd been trying to ignore came back in full force. He moaned.

"Shawn, you _idiot_!"

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Wendsday, 10:48am_

He stormed into the Las Vegas police station, nearly giving a couple of young rookies heart attacks. He ignored them and their startles gasps, and headed straight for the interrogation rooms. An officer chased after him, trying in vain to slow him down.

"Wait, sir! You're not authorized to be in there---" He ignored the man and pushed through the door, and came face to face with a tired Gus. Behind him, Lassiter and Juliet studied him.

"Mr. Spencer!" Gus stammered in surprise. Henry glanced between the three of them, a wild look that wasn't quite sane in his eyes.

"Alright, let me at 'em!" he snapped. "Let me talk to the guys who hurt my son."

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Note: So thoughts, anyone? This isn't my favorite chapter, but there are parts of it that I REALLY like; but tell me what you think. Chapter four should be up...fairly soon, though I'd like to have the rest of the story done before I post much more here, so I can't say *exactly* when. Pray that the muse helps me with the last couple of chapters! (: _


	5. Chap 4 We're Not in Vegas Anymore, Toto

_Note: I am SO SORRY that it has taken me so long to get my lazy butt over here to post this chapter. I am an idiot, and I am sorry. I can say that I was busy, and I had a lot going on, and that the Muse ditched me, and that I got sick for a week and was miserable, and it would be no excuse. It would also be TRUE, but it is still no excuse. So I am going to post TWO chapters for you tonight, for your enjoyment and to apologize. I truly did not mean to neglect this story for this long. _

_So apparently when I posted this chappie on Psychfic, I forgot to mention that my muse threw me for a loop and left me with a major-huge cliffie here, and I shocked a couple of my reviewers. I don't know where it came from, I promise! Please don't kill me O:). _

**Chapter Four** - _We're Not in Vegas Anymore, Shawn_

_Wendsday, 10:53am_

"Now hold on for just one darn minute!" Lassiter said, moving to block Henry from entering the interrogation room. "I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer; but you are a civilian, and you are _not_ allowed to go in there and start interrogating anyone without permission!"

"Chief Vick gave me permission, hotshot; now let me see them."

"I can't do that," Carlton said firmly. "You're not rational. Look at you; you're ready to kill them!"

"Like he's not, too?" Gus muttered to Juliet. Henry ignored them.

"Oh, I'm not going to be doing any killing yet; not until we find my son. Once we've got him and he's alright, _then_ they're going to pay."

"Knocking them unconscious isn't going to get us any more information, either. Look, you need to sit down, and relax, and help us figure this out. I talked to the chief, too; and she didn't say that you were actually allowed into the interrogation room. She said that she wanted you here because you were known as "the human lie detector" once upon a time at the station; and you can at least tell if they're leading us in the right direction or not. That means that you sit out here, and you watch us do the talking, and you tell us if we're getting anywhere." Henry shook his head.

"Unacceptable. This is my son we're talking about, Lassiter; and I am not going to sit around and watch while you waste time with them. He could be dying!"

"I know that; and believe it or not, I want to find him more than anyone. I was supposed to make sure that this didn't happen, but it did anyways. But I'm not going to let them get away with killing _anyone_ in this case."

"Maybe we could arrange something where you could talk to them," Juliet put in helpfully, earning a glare from her partner. "As a consultant; someone calm and rational and neutral to the case, that they don't think has any emotional connection to things."

"Are you kidding, O'Hara? That is a horrible plan! The man is the epitome of emotional connection here!"

"Yes, but they don't know that," Gus reminded them. "Mr. Spencer, if you calm down, all that they'll see is another investigator. If you can hide your relationship to Shawn while you're with them, maybe you can get something out of them that these two couldn't. They know that we're all Shawn's friends, that they can push our buttons. They have no idea about you."

"If they're smart, they did their research on all of us before they robbed that bank," Henry said, shaking his head.

"If they were smart, they wouldn't have taken a couple million dollars in large bills to Vegas and started betting them within a week of stealing it," Lassiter pointed out. "But that aside, I don't think that you can keep yourself neutral here, Mr. Spencer."

"Well, we've got to try something!" Gus insisted.

"Alright, we are obviously missing something, here," Juliet sighed, smoothing her hair back in a tired gesture. "Someone needs to go in there again; since the two of you are still busy trying to out-cop each other, I'm going. Henry, I hope you can read something more into what they say than we can." Henry paused and turned to frown at the younger detective.

"What did you just call me?" he asked. Juliet blushed.

"Mr. Spencer," she corrected herself. "Sorry." She opened her mouth to say more, but then thought the better of it and shut it again, and slipped past her partner to go into the interrogation room proper.

"Hey, good luck," Gus offered. She gave him a weak smile.

"Thanks."

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Tuesday, 11:23pm_

Shawn was jolted awake by what felt like a pothole. He jerked violently, trying to sit up, and found that he couldn't. Blinking dazedly, he tried to see through the dim light to get a sense of his location, as his fuzzy brain tried to make sense of the sensations surrounding him.

It didn't take him long to realize that he was tied up; the memories of his failed attempt at tailing rushing back in on him with enough force to make him wince. It took him a little longer to realize that the dim light was night, and that the fuzzy parts of his vision were pieces of scenery that he was moving past. It was dark and shadowy, with a distinct lack of neon signs. _You're not in Vegas anymore, Toto_. He decided that he was in the opened bed of a pick-up truck---much like his dad's except lacking the fishy smell---and that he'd been out for at least an hour.

With some effort, he was able to sit up enough to get a good look at his surroundings, and he found that he couldn't even see the glow of the Las Vegas lights that was visible long before you reached the city. Instead, he saw scrub brush and sand and cacti, and mountains in the distance. _Nope, definitely not Vegas_. But to be that far out from the city meant that they had been driving for a long time; it was a good bet that he had been out for more than an hour, too.

"Alright, don't panic," he muttered to himself. "It's not like they don't know where you are; Gus knows where you are. You called the hotel, you left him a message. Yeah. He knows exactly where you are. You're gonna be fine…" The truck hit a large bump in the road---if it could be called a road---and jolted Shawn's shoulder uncomfortably. He cursed.

"Who are you kidding? If they knew where you were, you wouldn't be in the back of a truck in the middle of nowhere; they would have found you and dealt with these guys by now. You are so dead…" He continued his mental debate with himself as the truck headed further and further into the unknown.

As the minutes stretched on and the scenery didn't change, Shawn gave up trying to mark it in his brain; even his photographic memory wasn't helping him here.

Sighing, he worked his hands in the ropes that bound them, trying to slip his hands free. It was another of those lessons that he had fought his father on as a child, but was constantly putting into use now. But whatever else that Riley guy may have been, he knew how to tie a knot. _Looks like I'm not escaping this way._

Shawn knew a thing or two about ropes too, however. Most notably, that even with inescapable knots in them, they didn't hold up forever against sharp, pointy things. He scooted his body painfully over to the side of the truck bed, and started to feel along the metal side for a jagged edge. About a third of the way down it, his wrist had an altercation with one, resulting in an instinctive curse and a trickle of blood. But he grinned in spite of the pain, and started to rub his bindings against the edge.

As he worked, he went through everything that he knew about the case over again in his head, this time including what he had learned from talking to Johns in that alley. Something still wasn't adding up for him.

Why make such an elaborate plan to lure someone here when they were already in Santa Barbara? What was the point of bringing them all the way out to Vegas? And who had they been after in the first place? 

It was somewhere during the middle of that train of thought that the truck braked to a sudden stop. The momentum jostled Shawn away from his sharp edge, and banged his head against the side of the bed. Past the ringing in his ears, he heard voices and slamming doors; and a moment later Johns jumped over the side of the truck and tossed him out. He landed hard on his shoulder in the sand. 

"Ow!" He cried, glancing up at Johns, who was still standing in the truck bed. "Was that really necessary?" Johns laughed.

"Listen, psychic, you're gonna have bigger things to worry about out here than a bruised shoulder. Suck it up." His words made Shawn instinctively start to chuckle, like the man had just made a really good joke.

"You're kidding, right?" he said. "You're not actually dumping me out here in the middle of nowhere…" he glanced at Sincha, who was standing quietly a little off to the side. The young man's face didn't change. "…Right?" The man gave a helpless shrug, and Shawn swallowed hard. "Oh. Well, you'll never get away with it! The chief will never stand for someone taking her lead psychic. They're going to catch you, and they're going to save me."

"Did you really think that we would let you live after what you pulled back there?" Johns asked. Shawn noticed that Riley winced a little as his partner spoke.

"What, because the spirits called part of your game? I'm just a messenger; I don't even know the whole thing yet. You're really going to ditch me out here for that?"

"I've got too much at stake to let you get in my way," Johns growled, jumping down from the truck. A cloud of dust rose around him as his boots hit the dirt. _Boots? They must have stopped someplace and changed clothes._ He had definitely been wearing something nicer than that when they'd met in the alley.

Shawn shook his head, glancing between the two men.

"You don't really want to kill me," he said. "Otherwise you would have shot me in that alley. You just want to drive my friends one step closer to crazy making them look for me." He paused. "Or maybe you have a trap set up on the way to me, and I'm just the bait…"

"Shut up!" Sincha snapped, surprising both his partner and Shawn. "You can talk all you want, but it won't save you; don't waste the breath you've got left." Johns laughed.

"Listen to him, psychic. The kid knows what he's talking about."

"Answer me this, though," Shawn said, ignoring their warnings, "why Vegas? I mean, you had all of us right there in Santa Barbara; whoever you're after had to have been an easy enough target there. Why go to all the trouble of robbing a bank and leading everyone to Vegas, when you knew that you could have been caught before your target got there?"

"Vegas is one of the safest places in my world," Johns said. "There are all kinds of connections and favors that keep me safer than anything."

"But still, you're going to get caught when you get back there," Shawn said. "How are you going to deal with your victim if you're behind bars?" The two men exchanged glances, and Johns burst out laughing. Riley laughed too, though it was more of a nervous, half-hearted chuckle.

"Let me tell you one thing, psychic," the big man said finally, his tone hugely amused. "It's a lot easier to get close enough to get at a detective when they're bringing you in anyways." Shawn frowned.

"You _know_ that Lassie will shoot you before you make it two inches, right?" Johns laughed again, and swiped a pair of keys from his partner's hand.

"Rest in peace, psychic," he said, walking around to the driver's seat of the truck and climbing in. "Sincha! Come on!" Looking torn, the younger man pulled something out of his pocket and flung it towards Shawn.

"I'm sorry," he said sadly, before climbing into the truck. 

"Wait!" Shawn called after them. "Are you guys idiots? He's going to kill you! You're…" he trailed off suddenly, his eyes widening in horror as images from the casino and the street clothes they'd changed into and bits of dialogue played themselves through his head almost too fast to keep track of. He watched them talk and laugh and flirt with Juliet, and there was a malicious tilt to Johns' grin. And there had been a patch on his jacket sleeve...

_Miami_.

"_No_!"

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Wendsday, 10:55am_

Lassiter watched carefully as Henry crossed his arms and sat back, observing the suspects through the one-way window as Juliet went in. Suddenly, he jerked, leaning forward in his seat as Juliet moved towards the table.

"Get her out of there," he hissed. Lassiter frowned.

"What? She just got in! I though that you were supposed to be watching her—"

"Get her out of there now!" Henry repeated. "Whatever is up with these guys, it has something to do with her."

"Spencer---hey!" Henry jumped up from his chair, ignoring the detective's protests, and jerked opened the door that led into the interrogation room. Juliet turned around.

"Detective, could you please come here for a minute?" he asked. Taking a step forward, Juliet opened her mouth to reply; but was cut off as Johns stood up and leaped over the table, crashing into her and shoving her against the wall, his huge hands going around her throat.

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Note: Like I said, please don't kill me? O:) Next chapter will be up in about five minutes ;). _


	6. Chap 5 When in Doubt, Choose Mel G

_Note: Ta-da! See? The chappie is here! :D :D It's like...magic :p. Haha, kidding. I hope you like :). _

_This chapter was notoriously hard for me to write, as has been everything that comes after (which is why the story isn't done yet *blush*). But I'm fairly satisfied with how it turned out, though I feel like the ending could have been better. But my Muse disagreed, and we argued violently, and, well...I lost :p. Let me know if you think the Muse was right or not. _

**Chapter Five** - _When in Doubt, Chose Mel Gibson_

_Thursday, 5:12pm_

_Shawn blinked his eyes against the sun, setting right in his face. He heard his father sigh beside him. He turned to look up at him._

"_Dad," he said slowly. "Why are we out here?"_

"_I wanted you to come watch the sunset with me, son."_

"_But Dad, it's still hot!" Shawn complained. "I've been out in the sun _all day_; I don't see why I have to leave the nice, cool air conditioning to come out and watch it go away."_

"_Shawn, what are you talking about, it's hot? Buck up. There's a great breeze blowing in off the sea, can you smell it? Besides, it's dropped at least ten degrees from earlier, and it's getting dark now. It's not hot."_

"_Yes it is, Dad. I'm burning up here!" Henry leaned down and pressed a hand to Shawn's forehead, under his bangs. The boy pushed it away. "Stop it! Can't you see I'm sweating here?" Henry frowned. _

"_You do feel feverish," he admitted. "Maybe we'd better take you to the doctor and make sure you're okay." Shawn yawned. _

"_Can't you just take me to Antarctica or something? I'm tired, I want it to be…" he yawned again, "…cool enough so that I can sleep." Henry definitely looked concerned now._

"_Shawn, I definitely think that we're going to be seeing the doctor."_

"_Aw, now?" he whined. "But I wanna sleep…" Henry sighed. _

"_I'm sorry, kid, you can't sleep yet. Not until we make sure that you're okay."_

"Can't sleep…" Shawn muttered, rubbing tiredly at his face. "Gotta stay…awake…gotta warn Jules…" He slumped over onto the sand.

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Tuesday, 11:50pm_

Shawn cursed angrily as he watched the taillights of the truck disappear into the night. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!

"You idiot!" He banged his against the ground, wishing that he had a more adequate punishment for his lazy, stupid brain. "How did you not see what was going on? Oh my gosh, could they have been any more obvious about it?" _And I missed it completely_. And he had gotten himself tied up and stranded out in the middle of the desert, while Johns and Sincha did whatever they were planning to do to Juliet. _I've got to get back before they hurt anyone_.

There was something about Sincha, though. He was nothing like his partner, Shawn was sure of that. He wasn't confident in their plan, and he certainly didn't look excited about it. And he had seemed sorry for ditching him out in the desert. Maybe there was hope for the guy yet.

Shawn let his head rest on the sand, groaning softly to himself. Then he blinked, and squirmed into a half-sitting position. There was something glinting in the sand a couple of feet away.

"My pocket knife!" he realized in surprise. That was what Sincha had thrown at him. "I was right; he is good cheese," he muttered, wiggling his way over to the knife and managing to get it in his bound-up hands. It was going to be a lot easier to deal with this desert when he could use his hands. And with any luck, he could make his way back in time to stop something terrible from happening. He knew that it was probably too much to hope for; but he had to try. He was _not_ going to die an idiot here in this desert.

"Ah!" He felt the ropes fall away from his wrist, and he pulled his arms forward gratefully and tried to rub some feeling back into his hands. When he was fairly confident of his hand-eye coordination again, he spent a few minutes carving his initials into a nearby cactus as a sign for his friends. It felt slightly cliché, but he decided that if everyone did it, then it worked. Besides, usually they drew arrows in the dirt or something. He grinned. _I'm being original!_

It took him several minutes to be satisfied with the letters, arrow, and vague pineapple shape that he had draw, but finally he sat back to admire it, dusting off his hands. "Now, to follow that truck." He stood up and started off in the direction that Johns had driven. "Hm…who am I right now?" he wracked his brain for an appropriate eighties reference. "Mad Max," he decided finally. "Though I don't know how I feel about being Mel Gibson." But with his character in place, he jogged on, determined to make it as far as could while it was still fairly cool.

"_Gus, if you and I were stranded in a desert together, and there was no way to get home, how long would you want me to wait before I started to eat you?"_

"_I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."_

"_Aw, come on, Gus!" _

"You got off easy today, buddy," he muttered to himself, wishing that his friend was there with him, even if it was only so that Gus could yell at him for getting them into that mess. He hated being alone.

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Tuesday, 11:26pm_

"This is really, really bad," Gus said, picking up an iPhone out of a pile of trash. After nearly a full day of searching, they had finally managed to track Shawn's phone here; but his friend was not with it, and neither were their suspects.

Lassiter glared at him. "Why, yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious, Guster. The next time that I need someone to tell me what I've known for almost an entire day, I'll call you."

"Alright, just relax!" Juliet said, coming between the two men and keeping one hand firmly on each of their arms. "We didn't find him; but at least there's no body, and no blood. That means that when he was here, he was still alive. That's something, right?"

"Yeah, something," Lassiter growled, shaking her hand off. "But it doesn't tell us where he _is_, or what has happened to him in the twenty-something hours since he disappeared. Which leaves us right back at square one, with Spencer missing."

"You don't even like him," Gus pointed out. "Why are you freaking out more than either of us?"

"Because it was my responsibility to keep you all safe!" the detective shouted, startling them both. "I may not like him; but if anyone is going to hurt him, it's gonna be me! Not a couple of brainless petty crooks!" he kicked at a piece of trash. "Why didn't he see this coming, anyways? He's supposed to be psychic! You'd think that the "spirit world" would have picked up on this important piece of information."

"Shawn has been having some…trouble interpreting his visions lately," Gus confessed. "He could see where they were coming, but not what was going to happen to him. I guess he must have just seen this alleyway."

"Do you think that they'd be dumb enough to come back here if they really did kidnap him?" Juliet wondered. Lassiter snorted.

"Probably. Either way, someone is staking this place out; as well as all of the places where they've been seen in the past forty-eight hours. As a matter of fact, I think I'll take this one."

"If you're staying, I'm staying," Juliet said firmly. "Gus, it would probably be best if you went back to our hotel and---"

"Whoa, wait, what are you talking about? This is my best friend that we're talking about; if you guys are staking out, I'm with you. I want to find these guys."

"Why Guster, how exceptionally courageous of you," Lassiter snarked, a little bit of his old self coming back now that they had a plan, as tenuous as it may have been. "I'm impressed."

"Yeah, Shawn'll do that to you." Gus sighed, and rubbed his hands nervously on his pants legs. "Alright, so how is this stakeout going to work?"

Five cramped, uncomfortable hours in a squad car later, Gus was awakened from a doze by Lassiter's elbow. Out of reflex, he slapped at him, but the detective slapped back, and it woke up fully.

"Wakey wakey, Guster. They're here." Gus blinked his sleepy eyes and looked through the windshield of the car at a pair of approaching headlights. 

"Are you sure that it's them?" he asked.

"Pretty sure," Juliet said. "They didn't drive the truck to the casino, but they drive it around town; some of the Vegas officers IDed it. This fits that profile."

"Probability of it really being them?"

"I'd give it a better than eighty percent chance…" Lassiter muttered, peering at the car. "Alright, Guster, I'm going to need you to get out of the car with us, but stay _back_; if shooting starts…"

"You think that they're going to start shooting?" Gus demanded. 

"We don't know what they're going to do," Juliet said, "so we have to be cautious. And since you're not a cop, we can't ask you to risk your life."

"Let me remind you that they _did_ just possibly kidnap my best friend. I'll deal." The truck pulled into the alley, and turned down between two buildings and shut it down. As the two guys in it opened and slammed the doors, Lassiter and Juliet slid silently out of the car, with Gus not far behind. They crept up to the corner of one of the building, guns ready. Gus saw Lassiter silently count of the men's steps in his head, and when they had taken about five, he gave Juliet some signal, and they both moved out to cover the two men in the alley.

It _was_ Johns and Sincha. Both men jumped when they saw them, and Riley's hands instinctively flew up in a gesture of surrender while his partner's went for a pocket.

"Drop it!" Lassiter shouted, leveling his gun at the large man. "I have no problem shooting you right here."

"Are you threatening me, _detective_?" he sneered. Lassiter ground his teeth.

"Drop. The. Gun," he gritted, gesturing at the weapon that was half-drawn from his pocket. Sighing theatrically, the man did as he was told. Lassiter didn't relax. 

"Guster, go back to the car and call for backup," he ordered. Gus did as he was told. Once Carlton could hear him talking, he twitched his gun at the two men. "Alright, on your knees, both of you, and hands behind your head."

"You can't arrest us," Johns said, grinning. "We haven't done anything yet."

"Hm, lets see…suspected bank robbery, suspected kidnapping and murder, and oh, yeah! Carrying a firearm without a license. That last one is more than enough to get you a sentence, even if you're not guilty of the other two crimes; but we certainly have the right to detain you for questioning. Now shut your mouth and get on your knees."

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Wendsday, 10:59am_

Lassiter watched as Johns stood up and leaped over the table, crashing into his partner and shoving her against the wall, his huge hands going around her throat. Cursing loudly, he followed Henry as he rushed into the room, and between the two of them, the fought the huge man off of her. Juliet stumbled back and collapsed, gasping and choking on air. Carlton knelt beside her and pulled his gun, tracking Johns as Henry wrestled him to the ground and pinned with his knee on his stomach.

"How did he get up?" Gus asked, coming into the room as well, holding a gun in his shaking hands. "I thought that he was cuffed to the table!"

"Maybe you guys should invest in some new cuffs," Johns snarled from his place on the floor. Henry pressed harder with his knee, making him wince.

"It's not going to happen again," Lassiter said firmly, as several Vegas officers with cuffs and guns came in and re-secured him, one also reclaiming his gun from Gus. "Get him in a cell, people." They took him away, and Lassiter finally put away his gun and focused his full attention on his partner. "Are you okay?" he asked. Juliet nodded, though she winced as she did so.

"I'm fine," she coughed roughly, placing ginger fingers on her throat. "You got him off me. Thank you." She coughed again, and he rubbed her shoulder awkwardly.

"What about him?" Henry panted, jerking his head at Sincha, who was still sitting in his chair, a slightly frightened look on his face. "What are we going to do with him?"

"I didn't want him to kill her, believe me," the man said, his words coming out in a rush. "I didn't want any of this stuff to happen; I just went along with it because of my brother."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, in Miami." He glanced at Juliet. "You wouldn't remember; he was my half brother, he had a different last name. But you were the one who locked him up."

"Are you confessing to plotting to murder her?" Henry asked.

"I'll confess to everything that I did," Riley said firmly, "but I didn't try to kill her."

"But you were going to let him; that makes you an accomplice to murder."

"Let me tell my story!" he begged. "Then you can tell me exactly what I'm guilty of."

"What about Shawn?" Gus asked. "Where is he?"

"I'll tell you where he is; but first, you have to let me tell my whole story. If you let me do that, then I will tell you where we left him."

"Him or his body?" Carlton asked morbidly.

"Him! He was still alive when we drove away."

"Implying that he might not be anymore now---"

"Carlton!" Juliet rasped, gripping his shoulder and climbing to her feet. "Let the man tell his story; the sooner he's done, the sooner we can go." Her partner sighed.

"Fine. But as fast or faster than humanly possibly, please?" Sincha sighed.

"I'll tell you everything that I know," he repeated again. "But it starts back a ways…"

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Note: So yeah, what did you think? I know that this is a kind of awful place to end a chapter, and that they should act way more worried about Shawn, but...but I fail, and as such, it had to happen that way *sigh*. As I said, Muse didn't give me a choice in the matter :p. More soon!_


	7. Chap 6 Sometimes You Need the Story

_Note: Alright, this is the LAST chapter that I have done. Everything from here on out is going to be fairly slow, I'm sorry to say, because I've hit the most collosal bout of writer's block that I've faced in a LONG time. I haven't been able to write anything substantial in over a month, and it is killing me Xp. But I promise you that I will work as hard as I can and finish this fic ASAP. Thanks SO much for bearing with me *huggles* I love you guys ^_^. _

**Chapter Six** - _Sometimes, You Gotta Hear the Story_

_Wendsday, 12:30pm_

Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, and Henry listened in amazement as Riley told his story, explaining how he had grown up in Miami and that his half brother Nicholas, and Johns, had been in the mob together.

"It was something that everyone _knew_ about, but nobody talked about, you know? He was into bad stuff, but he was a good guy; and he was always looking out for my family and my neighborhood. No one felt right ratting him out to the authorities.

"For a while, things actually went pretty well, you know? He was a great guy around the family, and no one ever knew exactly what he did to protect us; we were just happy that we were safe and that everything was normal."

"But what does any of this have to do with why Johns kidnapped my best friend?" Gus demanded. Riley shot him a look.

"I'm getting to that."

"Guster, sit down," Lassiter ordered. Inwardly cursing, Gus did so. They were so close! All of the nervous energy that had been building up in him during the day was coming to the surface now, and he was finding it hard to sit through the other man's story.

Go on," Juliet encouraged Riley, her voice still quiet and raspy from being chocked. The man drew in a deep breath, and after a moment, went on with his story.

"For almost as far back as I can remember, that was how things went; and according to my family it was all good. It wasn't until there was new blood in the city challenging Johns and my brother that we started getting worried.

"He would disappear, sometimes for days at a time; and when he finally did come back, he would be all tired and dirty and bloody…we knew that something crazy was going on. And then, one day, he got shot." Riley shrugged, and his breath hitched a little, but he was able to continue after only a moments pause. "He'd been in the middle of some kind of shoot-out with a gang and the cops; and a cop shot him. Johns came to see my family and told us how he'd died, and how his snitch on the force had told him that it was all the fault of some rookie cop not even out of the academy who had been assigned to study the mob's behavior, and figured out what they were gonna do. One rookie, who hadn't even observed a real case yet, and her information had gotten his group destroyed and my brother killed." His blue eyes flickered to meet Juliet's across the table. Her eyes widened.

"That was Johns' gang?" she breathed. Riley nodded.

"Yeah. He and my brother were high-ups, too. And he never forgave you for tipping the cops off."

"But it's been years!" Carlton reminded him, his harsh tone disguising his confusion. "If your friend was so mad then why didn't he just kill her right then and there in Miami?"

"She wasn't there," Riley explained. "She tipped them off, but she wasn't involved in the cleanup. Besides, Johns was hurt during the fight that Nick was killed in. He was out of commission for a long time; and by the time he'd recovered, you were long gone, and the snitch had been killed in the "line of duty"-police style, not gang. It took him a while to find out where you were. The bosses didn't care about what had happened; you were a rookie, you know? And Nick was just another guy, and there were plenty more where he came from. But Johns was mad. He and Nick had been partners, and he'd watched him die. So, once he had recovered enough, he contacted my family and delivered the news, and asked me for help.

"It took him time to find out where you'd been transferred to, but eventually he did; and he came up with the whole crazy rob-a-bank-and-take-it-to-Vegas plot."

"Now why would he go to all that trouble when they were _both_ right there in Santa Barbara and a bullet could have put an end to her right then and there?" Henry asked. "She was right there, and yet they lured her to _Vegas _and got my son involved in it too." Juliet turned awkwardly in her seat to face him. "No offense, Detective," he assured her quickly. Juliet did not look convinced, but she kept her mouth shut and let Riley answer.

"To be honest, I have no idea. I was just supposed to come along for the technical side of things at the bank; he's not too good at that stuff, but I am. And I admit, I'm _mad_ about what happened to my brother. But I was never going to be involved in the actual revenge; just the mechanics at the bank."

"And how did that turn out for you?" Lassiter asked, his tone laced with biting sarcasm.

"He pulled the "I helped your brother out when he needed me; why don't you help me out for him?" card," Riley snapped. "And so I came along for the ride to Vegas. But I didn't want to hurt anyone else, I promise. Your psychic friend wasn't supposed to be part of the picture."

"Well he is!" Gus said. "And you need to help us find him before something terrible happens to him."

"The worst that could have happened to him at this point is he's a little dehydrated. As long as he didn't do something stupid like wander off and try to find his own way back, he should be just fine." Shawn's friends shared a collective wince.

"I think," Henry growled, stepping forward towards Sincha with a clear threat in his voice, "that you should take me to my son now."

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Wendsday, early morning_

Shawn walked all night. He had been unconscious for long enough that the night was like morning to him; and adrenaline made from fear spurred him forward when he got tired. While he was walking slower than he could have to conserve energy, he only took two or three short breaks along the way; and as a result he had covered a lot of ground by the time the sun came up.

"So why am I not getting anywhere?" he wondered. For as far as he had walked, there was nothing but sand and cactus and rock; no little ranches, no abandoned miner's huts, no _water_. The tire tracks from Johns' truck had even disappeared.

"This is _so_ not like any good movie." At least _they_ always found something. A shack, an old well, some Jawas or a moisture farm…

Some of his earlier panic began to rise in him, but he forced it down. Panic was ineffective when you were with people; it was even more pointless when you were alone. If he was going to into a panic, it was going to happen in Santa Barbara in a supermarket, and it was going to be over a lack of pineapples in stock; not being stuck out in a desert.

Besides, he was starting to get the feeling that Johns hadn't driven him nearly as far as he had said; like they had to have taken a few hours off to rest or something. It would have been nearly twenty-four hours of straight driving, and that just wasn't possible, considering his alertness. If he was right, then they had already had plenty of time to get back and get caught by his friends, who were probably on their way right now.

"Yeah, they're on their way," he said. "Lassie and his gun probably came into play, and Johns probably told them everything. Or Sincha did. Yeah. Sincha definitely would have told. They're on their way, right now…yeah…" He repeated this to himself over and over again, out loud, in his head; because he had to believe that it was true.

When the sun started getting high in the sky, somewhere around ten thirty or so in the morning, Shawn started looking for a place to rest. He'd never spent much time around deserts, but he had seen a lot of survivor movies; and darn it if he was going to try to get anywhere in the heat of the day!

The best shelter that he could come up with was a rock that was stuck into the sand on an angle and about twice as tall as him. The angle of its position would shade him from the sun while it was at its most intense point, but it was in the open enough that no little-or not so little-poisonous things could sneak up and bite him. While he rested, he tried to figure out what to do next.

Until his friends found him and he learned what had happened, he was going to consider them all alright, but in danger. Johns had said that they were just after Juliet, but he doubted that the man had any scruples about who he hurt in the process. Hence stranding him in the desert. And speaking of the desert, he needed to come with a better plan to escape from the biggest sandbox on earth.

"Where is a crazy old hermit with a mule?" he asked a lizard that darted out from under the shade of his rock and climbed onto a little flat stone nearby to sunbath. It flickered its tongue, and Shawn shrugged, mentally naming it Randy.

"Well, yeah, I suppose that the mule wouldn't be such a good thing for you," he conceded. "Their hooves are very…large-ish." He illustrated their shape with his hands. The tongue flicked out again, and Shawn made a face. "Well excuse me, Randy, for bringing up a painful subject. I didn't realize that you'd had problems with the things, I'm sorry." He sighed and squinted out at the bright-lit desert; the Nothingness surrounding him. "I'd even settle for a bicycle right now," he said after a minute, turning back to the creature. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could find one of those, would you?" Randy just stared at him for a second, then scrambled off the rock and darted away. Shawn felt hurt.

"Really, Randy? After all that I've done for you? This bites, buddy. I thought we were friends!" He spent a few more minutes shouting after the lizard, trying to keep himself from going insane-and trying not to notice how hypocritical it was to be doing it. Finally he gave up, and leaned his head back against his rock.

"Stupid lizard," he muttered, letting his eyes close. "You should…never ask a lizard for directions…" It dawned vaguely on him that saying that kind of thing-things that made absolutely _no_ sense whatsoever-was another glaring sign down his road to insanity. But he had walked all night and had no food, and no water, and the heat of the desert was making him sleepy. Before he could do more than remind himself that he had to get going soon so he could get back and save Jules, he was asleep.

When he finally woke up again, it was dark.

"Oh, great, another walk through the night." After taking a few moments of gathering little pebbles out of the sand and arranging them to point his direction-the way that any good wanderer would-he set off again, urgency throbbing tiredly in his brain.

With no tire tracks to follow, his path was a bit more difficult, but he managed. From as far away as the moonlight allowed him to see, he picked a point ahead of him in the direction that the tracks had last pointed, and headed towards it. As long as he could see it, he was still on track.

By sunrise the next day, he was _really_ starting to feel the effects of the desert. Some of it was just basic, physical stuff that he'd been expecting if he was out for too long; but other things were more subtle. When he noticed several odd things, he began compiling a list.

_Sudden leap from "I'm thirsty" to "almost ready to die thirsty"_

_Someone suddenly stuck the desert in an industrial oven_

_Suddenly exhausted, dizzy, disoriented_

_Life passing before my eyes; classic sign of near-death_

_Seeing mirages_

It was the mirages that were really starting to get to him; thirsty, tired and hot? Uncomfortable, but he had been there before, if not quite to this extent. But the mirages were something new entirely, and it was frightening. At first they had just been small things, but they had grown progressively worse until he could barely tell reality from fever-induced waking dreams.

He stumbled along through the endless sand, tripping over rocks and cacti and holding delusional conversations with ghosts from his past; everything from Gus to the chief to his parents to Johns and Sincha and Jules and Lassie. Those ones always forced his mind back into the present. _Gotta get back…_ he felt like some kind of prince, going to rescue his lady._ Gotta rescue Jules_. He tripped forward a few more steps, and then his knees hit something rough and unforgiving. He fell face first into the sand.

For a moment he laid there, the sudden desire to simply lay there and fall asleep almost overpowering him. Yeah it was hot, but the sand was soft enough, and if he stayed in one place, it would be easier for someone to find him. He could just take a little nap while he waited here to be rescued. Jules and Gus would probably come out, anyways; and if she was here, she wouldn't be with the guys who wanted to kill her. Or just the one guy, since Sincha really didn't seem that interested in hurting anyone.

Yes, it would be good to rest. He'd been walking for hours, anyways. He couldn't quite remembered why, but he hadn't stopped to rest for the heat of the day like he had the day before; so it was only fair that he take a rest now. _Just a little one_. He closed his eyes.

A rattling sound made them snap almost instantly opened.

_Shawn slowly lifted his head from the hot desert sand, and stared into the tiny golden eyes of the snake weaving its thick body in front of his face_...

"Crap."

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Note: And we've come full circle, and now I need to be re-inspired to finish things up. Pray that I get my Muse back soon. _

_By the way, I know that I used the phrase "those ones". I also know that it is bad grammer (my beta made me QUITE aware of that :p *hugs her*). But it was in character, and I left it. You can hate me if you want, but unless you plan on publishing me, I'm not going to change it. Allow me my one grammer mistake and lets move on, okay? O:) _


	8. Chap 7 Shawn Here, Bring Pineapple

_This chapter was really hard to write. I wrote the beginning, and then my mind totally blanked, and I couldn't finish it. It's taken me a lot longer than I would have liked to get it done. I was finally able to finish it by having a mini-marathon this week and overloading myself with that wonderful, pineapple-y goodness that is Psych. I copped out a little bit on the search, because there's only so much you can do to make driving through the desert for a day and a half interesting. But I think I'm satisfied...as long as Spence likes it, we're good ;)_

**Chapter Seven** - _Shawn This Way, Bring Pineapple_

_Wendsday, 9:28pm_

It had taken Gus and Henry and the police the better part of the afternoon to get to the place that Riley had directed them to. When they had finally reached it, Shawn wasn't there; but his father's sharp eyes had caught something unnatural about a big cactus nearby. Upon closer examination, it turned out to be a carving. _SS :": -_.

"What is that?" one of the Vegas cops who had come along wondered out loud. Henry shook his head, almost grinning.

"Shawn Spencer, this way," he translated. "Bring pineapple if you've got it. That's my son." He shook his head.

"Alright, you heard him, people!" Lassiter had taken charge. "Follow that arrow." Well, they had. In fact, they had been following it for several hours, now, and Gus was getting discouraged as the miles rolled by and they found nothing. Finally, the Vegas officers forced them to call it a night.

"You can't do that!" Gus protested. His friends agreed.

"That's my son," Henry reminded them threateningly. The cop shrugged.

"I'm sorry. You guys have barely slept at all the past two days. It's not going to help your son if you can't even stay awake."

"I was in Santa Barbara until about twelve hours ago; I had a fine night's sleep last night. I was a cop a lot longer than you, pretty boy. I can handle an all-nighter if it means we find my son. I'm sure that these three agree." He motioned behind him to include Lassiter and Juliet and Gus. The latter nodded readily.

"I fell asleep for a while at the stakeout," he admitted, glancing at the two detectives for backup. "I can keep going for a while yet."

"No way I could sleep with this sore throat," Juliet croaked, nudging her partner. Lassiter rolled his eyes, but Juliet glared, and Gus and Henry joined in, until finally he gave up.

"I'm all jazzed up on coffee right now," he sighed. "I probably couldn't sleep even if I wanted to."

"While it's very noble and touching that all of you will do so much for your friend, you're going to hurt yourselves. We have other officers combing the desert; you can all take a rest. We'll inform you as soon as we have something." All four of them stood firm.

"We're helping." The cop tried to dissuade them, but Henry's face alone kept him from trying too hard. Finally, he gave in.

"At least let someone who had a full night's sleep drive," he pleaded. A brief glance between them made the decision.

"Agreed." Henry snatched the keys out of Lassiter's hand. "Lets go."

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_Thursday, 5:28pm_

"Shawn? Shawn! What are you doing still asleep, kid? You've got to wake up!" Shawn groaned and rolled his face away from the sunlight streaming through his window, hiding his head under his arms.

"Dad, leave me alone," he begged. "It's _early_."

"Early? Shawn, it's after five o'clock; you've got to wake up, kid!"

"Leave me alone when I'm sleepy."

"If you wake up, we can have pineapples, Shawn." Gus was suddenly standing beside his father. When had Gus gotten there? "Pineapple pancakes."

"Really?" Shawn's eyes flew opened, and for a moment his bedroom disolved, and was replaces my sand and heat and blinging sun, and four silhouettes standind over him that seemed so familiar.

"You lied, Gus," he muttered weakly, sniffing the air. "I don't smell any pineapple pancakes..." And then everything went black again.

*~.~**:":**~.~*

The next thing that Shawn was aware of was beepig. A slow, steady, rhythmic beeping...and then whispers.

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

"He's got to be alright; they said that we got to him in time."

"But it's been three days..."

"Would you be quiet? You might wake him up; and once Spencer talking is more than enough for me." At those words, Shawn cracked a smile, and opened one eye a little. There was only one man in the word who would say something like that ...

"Lassie?" he whispered.

"Oh, gosh, you made me jinx him awake!"Lassiter covered his face in his hands, but Gus, Juliet, and Henry all started to their feet.

"Shawn," Henry began, his voice hoarse with an emotion that Shawn didn't quite recognize on him. Worry? "How are you feeling, kid?"

"Thirsty," Shawn mumbled, letting his gaze wander around th eunfamiliar room he'd woken up in. "And sore. And..._very_ confused. Where are we?" His friends exchanged glances.

"In the hospital," Gus said finally, when his friend didn't admit to joking. Shawn frowned.

"The hospital? What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" Juliet asked.

"The last thing I remember is a promise of pineapple pancakes...Gus! You lied to me, buddy! And I was really craving those pancakes..." Henry let out a relieved sigh and dropped back into his chair.

"Same old Shawn," he muttered fondly, shaking his head. "Don't you remember anything else, kid?" Shawn scrunched his eyes shut and thought for a minute, bringing a hand to his head in a classic effort to display his "psychic ablilties". And then everything came back to him in a rush. His eyes flew opened.

"So you do remember," Lassiter commented.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said uneasily, fighting the urge to peek under the sheets at the snake bite. "I think I understand why I'm here now, though..." he paused. "What did I miss while I was out of it? How did you guys find me?" He laughed. "I mean, I'm the psychic; _I'm_ usually the one who does the finding. This is impressive."

"Do you mean how did we find you other than combing over the entire freaking desert for a day and a half?" Lassiter grumbed. Shawn grinned at him.

"Aw, Lassie-boy, you were really that worried about me? I didn't know that you cared!"

"Spencer!"

"Oh, he was really worried," Juliet assured him. "He was even ready to shoot the guys for you. He wouldn't rest until we found you-"

"Shut it, O'Hara I only wanted to make sure that they didn't kill him before _I _had a proper chance." Shawn glanced at him.

"I would have done the same for you," he promised seriously. "But honestly, what happened? How long was I gone?"

"Two and a half days," Gus answered. "And seriously, don't ever do that to me again. I was going crazy!"

"I hate to break it to you, Gus, but you're already crazy. No need to try and go there. Now tell me about Johns and Sincha. Did they really leave you guys alone for all that time? They told me that they were gunning for Jules!" Juliet fingered her throat uneasily. Shawn narrowed his eyes. "Wait, what happened?"

"The two of them are in jail now, though Sincha agreed to spill everything, so we'll see if he stays. There was just a little scuffle during interrogations." Henry frowned. "Do we really need to go into all this now?"

"Yes! I want to know all of the exciting stuff that happened while I was wasting away in the desert trying to get back to warn you guys! Come on, I need details!"

"Well, you know, it wasn't really anything too spectacular," Lassiter said witha shrug. "I mean, the frantic search for you all over Vegas didn't last too long; and the stakeout wasn't really all that exciting. And your father and I only knocked the guys around a little bit before Gus came in with the gun..."

"What?"

"Carlton, stop teasing him!" Juliet chided. "Shawn, you've been unconscious for a couple days, and the doctors told us that we weren't supposed to get you excited. I really think that you should wait to hear this until you've had a few more days to rest. There will be plenty of time later to explain everything-" Juliet broke off as Chief Vick burst into the room.

"Mr. Spencer, you had better have a darn good reason for doing what you did! Do you realize that your little stunt scared us all half to death? Look at this head, Mr. Spencer! It doesn't need any more gray hairs!" Shawn laughed tiredly, covering a yawn. _Maybe Juilet was right about all of that "resting" stuff_...

"Sorry to worry you," he mumbled with a smile. "Next time I'll let you know before I plan to get myself kidnapped and stranded in a desert."

"Well good!" Her eyes still had a faintly panicked look about them, but she seemed to be calming down. "Now, all of you, congratulations on catching those two scumbags."

"One scumbaf, actually," Gus corrected her. "The other one was just being used." Heglanced at Shawn. "Like me," he muttered.

"What was that?" Vick asked.

"Oh, nothing," he shook his head. "Just thinking out loud."

"Wait," Lassiter interrupted. "Chief, if you're down here in Vegas, who do you have in charge back at the station?"

"McNab."

"McNab?" he repeated in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

"Carlton, he is a capable and respectable officer of the law-"

"He's a rookie, Karen!"

"He's a good officer."

"Chief, it's not that Buzz is a bad cop or anything..." Juliet began. "He's just..."

"Inexperienced?" Gus suggested. Juliet nodded.

"Yeah, inexperienced. Don't you think that maybe you should have chosen someone with maybe a few more years on the force?"

"And with both of my detectives taking it easy in a five-star hotel in Vegas? Who else was I supposed to leave in charge?"

"Hey, hey!" Henry broke in, startling them. "Take it outside, guys." He gestured to Shawn, who was snoring quietly against the white hospital pillow. "My son is sleeping."

*~.~**:":**~.~*

_I couldn't resist, I had to end on a fatherly Henry moment. I'm a sucker for that man. Epilogue coming soon! (:_


	9. Epilogue, Not Another Little Boy Cat

_And so we've come to the end :'(. I loved this story, and I'm sad that it's over; but it feels good to have finished it, too. I hope you like this last little bit, and that it's not too cheesy for you ;). Thanks so much to everyone who read, reviewed, faved, and loved this! _

**Epilogue** - _Not Another Little Boy Cat_

_Friday, 12:36pm_

Gus walked into the Psych office and found Shawn just as he had expected to; ignoring his doctor's orders. He sighed.

"Shawn, do you really think that you should be walking around and making jump-shots at your baby basketball hoop yet? You've only been out of the hospital and back in town for a day." Shawn shrugged.

"Nah, I figured that it would be best for everyone if I got right back into things. Do my duty to society and all that."

"Shawn, you know, you can take a break. If they need us, then they'll call us. They always do. Look, at least sit down. How's your leg feeling?" Shawn dropped into Gus's office chair and leaned back, propping his feet up on the desk.

"My leg? It's fine, I barely even feel the wound anymore. It's no big deal."

"No big deal? You almost died of that snake bite, Shawn."

"Ah, yes. But I didn't, did I, Gus? Besides, look at what Buzz gave me as a get well present." He put his feet down and reached under the desk, and came up with a ball of black and orange fluff. Gus frowned.

"He gave you a cat? Oh, gosh. You can't keep it here." Shawn grinned.

"This is Little Boy Cat Junior," he said, petting the fluff-ball's head gently. "Apparently Buzz's Little Boy Cat and Mrs. Pickles decided to get busy."

"Mrs. Pickles isn't real, Shawn." Shawn kept grinning, and Gus's eyes widened as he reached under the desk again and brought up a _second_ ball of fluff.

"He brought one for you too," he said, holding the thing out to Gus. "Say hello to Mrs. Pickles." Gus shook his head, backing away a few steps.

"Shawn, no. Shawn, we're not keeping it. Either of them. You go and you give them back to Buzz right now!"

"Aw, but Gus! What about my leg?" Shawn put on a puppy-dog face. "Look, just sit down and hold her for me, we can bring her back later if you still _really_ want to."

"I want you to know that I'm doing this completely against my will," Gus said, taking the kitten in one hand and sitting down. Shawn clapped, startling both of the little creatures.

"There's a good sport!" He leaned back again in his chair. "Now, tell me about what's been going on with Johns and Sincha. When is their court date?"

"Not for another few months," Gus said. "Apparently the chief is having some juriscdictional problems with the case, because of how things went down. You know how it is."

"Yeah..." Shawn closed his eyes thoughtfully. After a minute, he opened them again. "How is Jules?" he asked. After much badgering, he had finally gotten his friends to explain exactly what had happened.

"She's okay; she was a little shaken up, but she's getting over it."

"Do you see any hot rich chick disguises in the near future?"

"You're supposed to be the psychic; you tell me." Shawn sighed.

"I'm guessing that none of us are going to be going undercover again for a while."

"I'm guessing you're right. But she and Lassiter are back at work already. By choice, I think; the chief told them that they could take a couple of days off. They probably should have, but they were both itching to get back into things."

"Like me?" Shawn pressed. Gus raised an eyebrow.

"No, not like you. They didn't almost die of snake poison. You're supposed to rest." Shawn sighed.

"Well, I suppose you're right, I guess..."

"Thank you, Shawn. It's about time."

"I mean, if they need us, they'll call us, right?"

"Exactly."

"And it _is_ kind of nice to just sit here and relax with the Little Boy Cat and Mrs. Pickles." Gus stroked Mrs. Pickles.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Life is sweet right now." Shawn said, nodding. Smiling, Gus leaned back and started to close his eyes...

"There's just one thing that bothers me, though." His eyes popped opened, and he saw Shawn pulling a police scanner out of a desk drawer. He shook his head, and his friend climbed to his feet.

"No, Shawn, no-"

"How are they ever going to figure out who kidnapped the Russian Orthodox priest without our help?"

"Wait, someone kidnapped a priest?" Mrs. Pickles jumped off of his lap.

"Yup! Ransom note and everything. What do you say?" Gus narrowed his eyes.

"Just this one case?" he asked.

"Just this one case."

"And no more after this until your doctor and your father and the chief say it's okay?" Shawn nodded.

"Within reason," he promised, holding out a fist. Gus sighed.

"Alright, fine. Let's do this." They fistbumped, and a limping Shawn led the way.

*~.~**:":**~.~*

**THE END**

_Slightly cliche, I know...but I wanted to have a scene back in Santa Barbara to wrap it up. I actually really like this one (yay Muse! :D)._

_So, Spence, what do you think? You like? HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN! :D :D I know that it's quite a bit past right now...but it's quality, not speed of posting that counts, eh? ;) I love you, roomie! Hope you liked it! :D _

~ajj


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